


World in Your Eyes

by LeapAngstily



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Bottoming, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Chronological, PWP - Porn with Peerlo, Prostitution, Rape, Rape Recovery, Rimming, S&M, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapAngstily/pseuds/LeapAngstily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A successful businessman stuck in a loveless marriage, a professional high-class escort doing the only thing he knows, and a business agreement that should never have happened. Meet the harsh reality where you might occasionally get what you want, but it never comes without a sacrifice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Prostitution AU. I’ve been avoiding this particular idea for ages, until I just couldn’t ignore it any longer.  
> The premise of this story is mostly made up, as there is only a very limited amount of information available on Italian gay prostitution. Basically I’m mixing the little information I found with stuff from movies/books and other media. I also took some inspiration from [Japanese host clubs](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Host_and_hostess_clubs), although it’s actually a concept separate from prostitution.
> 
> A word of advice: never start writing a "cute little oneshot" without figuring out the scope of your plot in advance – otherwise you might end up with an 11k monster in a format that can’t be converted into a multichapter.
> 
> Oh, and the title is derived from the Depeche Mode song _World in My Eyes_ , in case anyone’s interested.

Riccardo is playing around with Andrea’s smartphone when he comes back from the shower, surfing through his contacts and messages in a bored fashion, stopping to take a closer look every now and then.  
  
He is still naked, lying on the bed on his stomach, his back turned to Andrea, the curve of his butt so enticing that Andrea just has to walk over and press a soft kiss on one of his buttocks.  
  
“Find anything interesting?” he asks softly, only half-interested as he abandons his towel to the floor and crawls back to bed, pressing up against Riccardo and peering over his shoulder at the phone screen.  
  
“Nah, your life’s as boring as I expected,” Riccardo drawls with a shrug before turning his head enough to catch Andrea’s lips in a playful kiss.  
  
Andrea notices what Riccardo is doing only when he turns back to the phone, saving the new photo and setting it as his background.  
  
It is a cute picture, Andrea must admit. Or it would be if he did not know the context behind it.  
  
“You know I can’t keep that,” he tells Riccardo matter-of-factly, kissing his neck as if to appease him, “What if someone saw it?”  
  
“I could save you the trouble and send it to your wife right now,” Riccardo suggests absent-mindedly, turning his head to side to allow Andrea better leverage.  
  
“Is that what you want, Riccardo?” Andrea asks quietly, dropping lazy kisses on the pale skin between the words, “For me to leave my wife for you?”  
  
“No, it’s what  _you_  want: an excuse to end your sorry excuse of a marriage,” Riccardo corrects him, fidgeting with the phone some more, “There, I deleted it. Happy now?”  
  
Andrea feels a terrible twitch of guilt, because he is anything but happy with how the things have turned out. Because that one constantly growing part inside him was hoping Riccardo would ask him to get a divorce.  
  
Because somewhere along the way Riccardo has learned to read him better than Andrea himself ever could.  
  
  
  
“You’ll love it, Andrea. All those beautiful boys, ready to do anything for you. You’ll forget Deborah in no time,” Antonio assures him as they get out of the cab in a dark alleyway.  
  
“For the millionth time, we’re not divorcing! It was just one argument,” Andrea knows his protest will do no good as he follows Antonio through the alley.  
  
He still cannot believe a high-class club his business partner is describing could be found in a seedy neighbourhood like this, but then again, he is no expert when it comes to private gay establishments in the city.  
  
“Oh, but you  _will_  think again when you see what they have to offer,” Antonio smirks before leading Andrea through a dark doorway and down the dimly lit stairs.  
  
“Name’s Conte, we should be on the list,” Antonio tells the man standing in front of the door at the bottom of the staircase. After a swift confirmation they are let in and a young man in formal attire appears to lead them to their table.  
  
To say Andrea is pleasantly surprised would be an understatement: the club is stylishly decorated, all the guests and employees are dressed nicely, most tables are separated with curtains or folding screens for more privacy, and the music is not too loud so they can talk without any trouble.  
  
The waiter reappears shortly to serve them a bottle of expensive champagne – Andrea is genuinely impressed with Antonio’s taste – and a confidentiality agreement for Andrea to sign.  
  
“We can’t take any chances – many of our customers are very keen on their privacy,” the waiter explains with an apologetic smile, but Andrea waves his worries off, signing the paper after scanning through it quickly.  
  
“Told you, didn’t I?” Antonio asks him with a crooked grin, clicking his glass against Andrea’s in a comradely fashion, “You just need to know the right places and the right people to get you in.”  
  
Andrea sips his champagne carefully, enjoying the rich flavour filling his taste buds, trying to appear nonchalant as he answers, “Could’ve been worse, I’ll give you that.”  
  
Antonio lets out a bark of laughter and claps Andrea’s shoulder with much more force than necessary, “Just wait ‘til you meet the boys. Even you can’t say no to that, you old grouch.”  
  
Andrea genuinely doubts it: prostitutes might be satisfactory for Antonio, who is used to getting anything he wants by just snapping his fingers and waving around a stack of bills. For Andrea it is the thrill, the idea of making another man writhe with pleasure under him that makes his occasional trysts worth the risk.  
  
“We’ll see,” is all he says out loud, unwilling to openly object with Antonio’s views after he went through all the trouble to get them an invitation and bring him here.  
  
He is scanning their surroundings with mild interest, taking a note of the other customers as well as the young men – the  _escorts_  – loitering around. None of them are making any open invitations to the guests, at least not yet, preferring to wait until someone approaches them.  
  
“Everything needs to be discreet in case the police happen to raid the place,” Antonio explains as if reading his mind, “This is not a brothel and the boys aren’t officially employed here. This is merely a meeting place, to bring together the affluent customers and high-class escorts.”  
  
It does not sound completely legal, probably somewhere in the gray areas of the prostitution law, but Andrea decides not to pursue the subject.  
  
He has no idea how Antonio does it, but in less than an hour they have a small group of escorts sitting at their table, laughing at Antonio’s stupid jokes, fluttering their fake eyelashes at them and allowing Antonio to buy them drinks, although drinking only a little.  
  
They are all very pretty, even effeminate: small and skinny, most of them just barely of age (Andrea has his doubts about that but knows not to interfere). It is exactly what he had imagined Antonio’s type to be.  
  
Andrea’s eyes catch striking blue as he happens to look at a tall young man walking past their table on his way to the bar. The eye-contact last only a few seconds, but the man flashes him a shy smile nonetheless before averting his eyes.  
  
Andrea tries to be as discreet as possible as he follows the man with his eyes, taking in the long legs, dark curls and the opened top buttons of his black shirt. The nicely formed ass catches his attention when the man leans on the bar with his elbows, talking to the bartender.  
  
The pose must be practiced because Andrea is not the only one in the room staring.  
  
“Who’s that?” Andrea turns to ask Antonio, who has wrapped an arm around a blonde boy, speaking right into his ear.  
  
Antonio seems to be unsure who Andrea is referring to, but the blonde understands right away, “The new guy? He doesn’t come here often – heard he’s got a bunch of regulars who got him on speed dial.”  
  
“Oh, so that’s your type, Andrea?” Antonio purses his lips, studying the figure by the bar once he understands who they are talking about, “Doesn’t look like much. Isn’t he a bit old?”  
  
“Better than robbing the cradle,” Andrea deadpans before remembering the boy sitting next to Antonio, “No offence, of course.”  
  
“None taken,” the escort giggles – obviously it is not the first time people have made comments on his age.  
  
Andrea keeps his eyes on the man at the bar, just enjoying the view instead of approaching him. Beautiful or not, he is still just a prostitute, and Andrea did not come here to pick up anyone no matter what Antonio says.  
  
“Seriously? You’re just gonna sit there?” Antonio asks, his full attention suddenly back on Andrea, the blonde at his arm all but forgotten, “How long’s it been since you last got laid? Don’t even try to tell me you don’t wanna hit that, Andrea.”  
  
“I’m not like you,” he scoffs and pointedly turns to look the other way, studying a group of people who have just entered the club – one of them must be some high-ranking politician, Andrea is sure he has seen him on TV before.  
  
Andrea thinks Antonio has given up when the man gets up and heads for the backroom with his little blonde and another twink from the same group. His hopes are crushed, though, when he notices Antonio stopping at the bar, talking into the blue-eyed beauty’s ear, his hand resting on the small of his back casually.  
  
The young man looks over his shoulder at Andrea, saying something to Antonio, who in turn slips a few bills on the counter, leaving them there as he joins his own escorts again.  
  
Andrea is stuck in place as the man collects the bills and slips them into his pocket before turning away from the bar and heading straight to Andrea’s table. He knows he should leave, avoid the temptation, the trap Antonio has set for him.  
  
The few escorts still lingering around the table disappear quickly, probably in search of other more willing customers. There is obviously some kind of a hierarchy, although Andrea has no idea how that works in practice.  
  
“May I?” the man gestures towards the empty seat next to Andrea, previously occupied by Antonio.  
  
“Um, yeah, be my guest,” Andrea is glad he only stutters a little as he reluctantly invites the man to join him. He would look stupid, sitting here on his own, and this escort already took Antonio’s money. What else could he do?  
  
“Your friend seemed worried,” the escort smiles as he sits down gracefully, albeit a bit too close for comfort in Andrea’s opinion, “Though I don’t know why. I’m sure a man with your looks can find company with no trouble.”  
  
His eyes are so blue, deep, bright, a mixture of turquoise and cerulean – they cannot be real, no one has eyes like that!  
  
“I think a better question would be whether I want to find company tonight,” he admits with a hesitant smile, chugging down the rest of his champagne. The man takes the bottle and fills his glass immediately, his every motion screaming _professional_.  
  
“Well, do you?” the man smiles playfully, the expression lighting up his whole face, the skin around his eyes wrinkling a little. His front teeth are a bit bigger than the rest, and somewhere in the back of his mind Andrea thinks it kind of cute.  
  
“Maybe,” Andrea answers carefully, still stuck in the escort’s mesmerizing eyes, “Should we get another glass? I doubt I can finish this bottle by myself...”  
  
“If only a little, I still need to work tonight,” Andrea can feel a hand on his thigh as the man speaks, and he cannot bring himself to push it away.  
  
“Do as you like,” he says as he waves a waiter over, “Can we get another glass for—”  
  
“Ricky,” the escort supplies when Andrea hesitates for a second.  
  
“—For Ricky here. Please?”  
  
  
  
“I had sex with a woman today,” Riccardo tells Andrea as he removes his contact lenses before washing off the remainders of his makeup, “This old fart wanted to watch while I fucked his young gold digger wife. Disgusting. Paid well though.”  
  
“You do women too? I thought you were only into men?” Andrea asks him, genuinely curious, leaning on the edge of the Jacuzzi to get a better look of Riccardo.  
  
He really likes seeing Riccardo like this, removing the work attire, relaxing after an exhausting night of playing the ‘professional’. It is at these moments that Riccardo is truly himself instead of Ricky the top escort.  
  
“Since when do I need to be into a person to fuck them?” Riccardo asks with a shrug, combing his hair to get the excess hairspray off, “You had two kids without ever being into your wife, didn’t you?”  
  
“I like my wife just fine, thank you very much,” Andrea scoffs, splashing water in Riccardo’s direction as he starts pulling off his clothes – only jeans and a nicely fitted shirt today, since it was just a private visit.  
  
“Keep telling yourself that,” Riccardo chuckles, kicking off his underwear before he walks over to the Jacuzzi and slips into the warm water, pressing up against Andrea’s side and kissing him, long and gentle, “Doesn’t make you any straighter than me.”  
  
Andrea catches his lips into another kiss, pressing his tongue into Riccado’s mouth, tasting the familiar flavour of Riccardo’s mouthwash, the one he keeps in his bag whenever he is meeting clients.  
  
“Was that all for today?” Andrea asks when they finally part, urging Riccardo to move into his lap, caressing his buttocks possessively, “You got energy for one more round?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” Riccardo asks impishly, his light blue eyes shining with affection as he presses their foreheads together and rubs his crotch against Andrea’s obvious erection.  
  
“There’s always a choice,” Andrea reminds him, brushing their lips together chastely even as his fingers slip between Riccardo’s buttocks, stroking his entrance gently.  
  
Riccardo is quiet for a long while, just pressing his hips against Andrea’s fingers demandingly, his breath catching as Andrea pushes just the tip of his forefinger in.  
  
“Maybe for you there is. But not for me.”  
  
  
  
The backroom is dark and Andrea can hear sounds of sex from every corner. This is the part of the gay club scene he will never get used to – the people who are willing to have sex almost publicly, uninhibited, so open with their sexuality.  
  
Ricky leads him through the corridor, not paying any mind to the sounds or the  _smell_  around them, keeping a fast hold of Andrea’s hand until they enter a separate room and the lewd performance is left behind the closed door.  
  
“This is better,” Ricky says with a smile, turning on the dim lights, just enough to reveal a small room with a large bed taking up most of the space. Soft music is playing in the stereos, blocking the last sounds that might make their way through the walls.  
  
Ricky turns to face him, holding his gaze as he lifts his hands to caress Andrea’s cheeks gently, “So, what now? It’s your choice, Andrea.”  
  
He is stretching every syllable of Andrea’s name, like enjoying the sound on his tongue. Andrea had considered giving him a fake name – just like Ricky, which is obviously just a nickname, or maybe even completely unrelated to his actual name – but in the end he had not seen the point. He already signed the confidentiality agreement, the same as Ricky.  
  
“I— we don’t really have to do anything,” he mutters, even if the proximity is already making him half-hard, “You can just keep the money Antonio gave you, I don’t mind.”  
  
Ricky rolls his eyes, but he is still smiling that same encouraging smile, his eyes shining turquoise even in the inadequate lighting, “This is my job. It’s what I’m paid to do, so you don’t need to be considerate with me.”  
  
“It’s not that,” Andrea insists quickly, his eyes fluttering closed as Ricky rolls his perfect,  _perfect_  hips against his. The escort obviously knows what effect he has on Andrea, has known since that first eye-contact, “I can’t enjoy it if I know you’re just doing it for money. If I’m the only one getting pleasure from it.”  
  
He regrets saying anything the moment the words leave his mouth, because it is embarrassing and naïve to have this conversation with a prostitute. For fucks sake, Andrea is a grown man, the vice president of a flourishing family corporation – so why does he suddenly sound like a shy schoolboy?  
  
But instead of laughing at him, Ricky leans in to brush his lips against Andrea’s ear before answering, “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to enjoy it. I’m good at that.”  
  
Andrea does not know how to answer that: the assurances are not exactly making him feel better about this, because what Ricky said is basically the same as saying he is good at pretending pleasure.  
  
It is exactly what Andrea did not want to hear, but Ricky is already pulling him towards the bed by his belt loops, dropping chaste kisses around his face, although pointedly avoiding his lips. Andrea realizes he is too turned on to argue his stance any further.  
  
Ricky sits down on the bed, his legs spread invitingly, and he is playing with the fly of Andrea’s suit trousers, until he finally pulls them open and down Andrea’s legs along with his underwear.  
  
He lets Andrea take care of the rest of his clothes, just sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly, not speaking again until he is fully naked, “You wanna undress me as well? Or should I do it myself?”  
  
Andrea replies by reaching for Ricky’s shirt, unbuttoning it carefully, making sure not to pull on the expensive-looking fabric. The skin underneath is unblemished, and for a moment Andrea wonders whether Ricky has rules for leaving marks or if he just has to wait until they heal before getting back to work.  
  
Ricky lets him work on his clothes, not making any effort to rush him, just lifting his hips from the bed long enough for Andrea to push his trousers and underwear off.  
  
He is only half-hard, a reminder that Andrea is the only one feeling any genuine attraction in this room, but he hums appreciatively and bucks into his hand as Andrea wraps his fingers tentatively around the length.  
  
Andrea wants to ask if this is alright, but Ricky is the one getting paid here, so he is supposed to go along with whatever Andrea asks of him.  
  
“What’re the rules?” he asks instead, rubbing his fingers over the tip of Ricky’s erection, teasing him into full hardness.  
  
“All the basics,” Ricky replies, his voice only a tad higher than usual as Andrea keeps stroking his cock, “Your friend paid for the regular service – a blowjob and a fuck. Any kinks are negotiable but cost extra. And we always use condom for penetration.”  
  
“Can I blow you?” Andrea asks softly, not sure if he is allowed to even ask for such a thing, “Or is that against the rules?”  
  
There is a flash of confusion on Ricky’s face but he quickly schools his features back to his usual smile – the one that might not be quite as genuine as one would think – “It’s unusual. But I don’t mind, if that’s what you want.”  
  
Andrea does not wait for further instructions: he pushes Ricky down to the mattress and kneels between his legs on the floor, carefully licking the underside of his cock.  
  
Ricky throws one of his legs over Andrea’s shoulder, bucking his hips upwards barely noticeably as Andrea carefully licks the tip, savouring taste, before taking it into his mouth, drawing a breathy moan from Ricky.  
  
Ricky is surprisingly responsive – or more likely just a really good pretender, just like he said – squirming under Andrea’s touch, moaning and whining softly when Andrea takes more of him into his mouth.  
  
This is what Andrea misses when he is with his wife. This is what he needs to get from his male partners.  
  
“How ‘bout that fuck, now?” Andrea asks when he finally lets go of Ricky’s cock to catch his breath, “That counted as the blowjob, right?”  
  
Ricky lets out a laugh, scooting back on the bed and spreading his legs even wider to allow Andrea to climb onto the mattress and to settle between them, “Your money, your choice.”  
  
Andrea does not bother reminding him that technically it is not  _his_  money – it does not make any difference to the escort anyways – so he just accepts the condom and lube Ricky offers him and reaches between his buttocks to find his entrance.  
  
“You don’t need to go slow,” Ricky tells him as he pushes the first slicked digit in, “I’m a pro, remember?”  
  
Andrea responds by pushing another finger alongside the first one, stretching him carefully because no matter what Ricky says, fucking him without proper preparation is the last thing he wants to do.  
  
Ricky pushes against his fingers almost immediately, throwing his head back and moaning out loud, and Andrea wants to believe he is doing it to tell him he is doing fine, not to make things end faster.  
  
Rationally thinking, he knows it is probably for the latter.  
  
Ricky hums a soft  _”yesss”_  when Andrea finally retracts his fingers and rolls the condom over his erection, still aching hard despite not having been touched at all. He pours some more lube on his hand to coat himself with it.  
  
Ricky feels incredibly tight around Andrea’s cock as he pushes in slowly, concentrating on the warm pressure as he slides in with next to no resistance. Ricky has wrapped his legs around his hips, pulling him fully in and keeping him there, moaning unashamedly as Andrea fills him.  
  
“This is good,” he tells Andrea in a breathy voice, catching his eyes and offering him a satisfied smile. His eyes flutter closed as Andrea pulls back a little and thrusts in again, setting an uneven rhythm, keeping his movements short, unwilling to pull away from that amazing heat.  
  
It is over far too soon for Andrea’s liking – too long since he last got to be with a man to keep going – Ricky clenching his muscles around Andrea’s cock intentionally to make him come first, before bringing himself over the edge with fast jerks on his cock as Andrea finishes the last few thrusts, trying to hide his groan against Ricky’s neck.  
  
“Wow, that was—” Andrea cannot find the right words, watching in awe as Ricky removes and discards the used condom, before rubbing him clean with a few wet wipes from a box waiting on the nightstand.  
  
So professional.  
  
“I hope you’ll come visit us again,” Ricky smiles at him as he starts pulling his clothes back on, and now Andrea notes that the smile really does look fake, “It was nice doing business with you.”  
  
He slips a card into Andrea’s pocket as he sees him out, just a normal business card with the club’s name and access info, a hastily scribbled  _Ricky_  and a phone number on the blank side.  
  
  
  
Riccardo hisses sharply as Andrea tries to clean the scratch marks on his back, instinctively trying to pull away from the disinfectant towel.  
  
“It stings,” he whines when Andrea does no budge, keeping a firm hold on his shoulder to keep him from getting off the chair he is sitting on, finishing up as fast as he can without hurting Riccardo more than necessary.  
  
“Should’ve thought about that before you let them cut you,” Andrea tells him with a roll of his eyes, although it goes unnoticed with Riccardo’s back turned to him, “Was it really worth it?”  
  
“Got me a week’s profit in one night,” Riccardo answers with a shrug, sighing in relief as Andrea finally rubs some soothing salve on the cuts and burn marks and pulls his oversized T-shirt back down, “Would  _you_  have turned that kind of an offer down?”  
  
Andrea does not bother reminding Riccardo that his kind of business rarely involves sadomasochistic foreplay – except maybe when dealing with completely idiotic customers, and even then the trauma is all psychological.  
  
“I just want you to be careful, is all,” Andrea tells him, wrapping his arms around Riccardo’s shoulders from behind and kissing his still damp hair, taking in the faint scent of the hotel shampoo, “There’re all kinds of freaks out there, wouldn’t want you to run into one of them.”  
  
“I met this freak once, thought it was okay to get feelings mixed up in the business,” Riccardo leans his head back on Andrea’s shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure on his back, “Wonder where he ended up…”  
  
Where indeed? Andrea stays quiet for a long while, just enjoying the feeling of having Riccardo in his arms. Where will they end up, both hopelessly stuck in their own worlds, never getting enough, never getting truly what they want?  
  
“You tell me,” he finally whispers, pressing one final kiss on Riccardo’s cheek before leaving the apartment.  
  
The morning sun is already shining between the tall buildings as Andrea gets into his car and heads to work. Another day in the office without an eyeful of sleep – Riccardo will really be the death of him.  
  
  
  
“You can just drop me off somewhere around there if you really don’t wanna join me,” Antonio tells him airily, “Or we could pick up a couple of boys from the street and go to a hotel somewhere. Have a private party of our own.”  
  
“No thanks, I think I got quite enough last time,” Andrea replies dryly, the same answer he has given Antonio numerous times during the past month, “And I promised Deb I’d try to be home early tonight. It’s almost the kids’ bedtime already.”  
  
Andrea rarely sees his kids anymore aside from an occasional breakfast together, stuck between running a busy company (his father rarely shows up at the office anymore), meeting business partners (mostly Antonio), and avoiding excess time spent alone with his wife who would much rather kick him out for good were it not for the public appearances.  
  
“I don’t get it. Was that hooker really that bad?” Antonio asks curiously, not for the first time either, “He seems to be high in the pecking order. I guess that doesn’t guarantee quality.”  
  
“No, he was good,” Andrea assures him quickly. Although ‘good’ does not really cut it – amazing, incredible, addictive would be closer. Andrea still finds himself jerking off to the thoughts of Ricky when he is certain Deborah is asleep.  
  
And that is the problem, basically. Andrea knows he would be completely hooked if he got a chance to touch Ricky again. That he would spend all his time dreaming of a man he could never have, not for real.  
  
“Oh? Then maybe I should have a go at him, too? To see what all the fuss’s about,” Antonio muses as Andrea turns around the corner, entering a side alley with bright neon lights and a handful of escorts hanging around even though it is still fairly early for them.  
  
“Speak of the devil,” Antonio grins and before Andrea can stop him, he is opening the car window and whistling at Ricky, who is talking to another young man with short fluffy curls and dark makeup.  
  
“We were just talking about you,” he tells Ricky as the escort walks over to the car, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his foot on his way, “Andrea here’s been so depressed lately. Mind cheering him up for me?”  
  
“Shut up, I told you I’m going home,” Andrea mumbles irritably, but offers a forced smile to Ricky nonetheless.  
  
“The price’s gone up,” Ricky drawls in a soft voice, almost like a purr, and it is going straight into Andrea’s crotch, even if the words are directed at Antonio, “Although I might make an exception just for you,  _President Conte_.”  
  
Antonio’s flirtatious “Is that so?” and Andrea’s vehement “No!” come out at exactly same time, and Andrea could swear Ricky’s eyes are filled with amusement as he leans onto the window pane to get a better look at Andrea.  
  
“I believe that needs to wait for another time, though,” Ricky concludes, running his fingers teasingly down Antonio’s arm, “It seems like Andrea isn’t in such a hurry after all.”  
  
“It would seem so,” Antonio smirks as he gets out of the car, brushing against Ricky far too intimately in Andrea’s opinion, “What a pity.”  
  
Ricky climbs into the passenger seat before Andrea has a chance to get a word edgewise, pulling the door closed and looking around casually like it was a normal occurrence for him, “Nice car. Is it new?”  
  
“Not really,” Andrea shrugs the question off as he hits the throttle and drives through the alley, away from Antonio’s triumphant gaze, “You’re not busy, then?”  
  
Ricky is fiddling with the car stereos, jumping from radio channel to another before settling for an old pop song Andrea vaguely recognizes, “I wouldn’t have been out there if I was, now would I?”  
  
“I wouldn’t know, I’m just a passerby,” Andrea mutters, pointedly keeping his eyes on the road, trying his best to ignore the object of his recent dreams sitting next to him, “Where should we go then? A hotel?”  
  
He has given up on getting home early, the picture of Antonio and Ricky together flashing through his mind, too painful and disgusting to handle even though Andrea is not quite sure why. That is Ricky’s job, is it not?  
  
“That’d be good. You’re paying for it, of course,” Ricky is purring again, intentionally leaning towards Andrea, speaking right into his ear, resting his hand on his thigh just inches away from his already growing erection, “And I accept only cash.”  
  
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Andrea says quickly, hoping his voice does not reveal how turned on he is just from the thought of being with Ricky again, “Just gimme directions, I trust you know this area better than I do.”  
  
“There’s a nice place just a couple blocks from here,” Ricky is sliding his hand upwards, cupping Andrea’s crotch gently, “Posh. Private. Very discreet.”  
  
Andrea has to force himself to focus on driving as Ricky keeps fondling him through his trousers, giving him directions happily as though they were on a regular road trip. He is painfully hard when they finally pull into the hotel’s underground parking lot.  
  
“Do you mind?” he looks pointedly at his crotch, his trousers straining over his erection, “Don’t think I can just walk in like this.”  
  
“Gonna cost extra,” Ricky informs him, but he is already opening Andrea’s fly and pulling his cock out of his boxers.  
  
“I don’t care,” Andrea grits out, throwing his head back and sighing in relief as Ricky leans down and takes him into his mouth, sliding down his length as if he did not have a gag reflex at all.  
  
It takes less than a minute for Andrea to come, Ricky pulling back at the last second and catching his seed in a tissue, tugging his softening cock back into his pants.  
  
“Now, how about that room?”  
  
  
  
“Do you ever consider quitting?” Andrea asks quietly one night, not sure if Riccardo is even awake anymore, curled up at his side under the covers, one of his legs thrown over Andrea’s.  
  
Riccardo does not answer right away but Andrea can feel him tensing up against him, which reveals he is not sleeping yet. Andrea turns to his side as well, facing Riccardo and wrapping his arm around his waist in case he will try to run away.  
  
“It’s the only thing I’m good at,” Riccardo finally replies, avoiding Andrea’s eyes carefully, “If I quit, I’d have nothing to fall back to. I’d have no way to make a living.”  
  
“You’d still have me. I could help you until you found a proper job,” Andrea knows it is the wrong thing to say the moment the words leave his mouth, but it is too late to take them back as Riccardo sits up forcefully, shaking his arm off.  
  
“And my job’s not ‘proper’? You’d prefer I was your personal whore?” his voice is cutting, almost icy, and Andrea is surprised he has not gotten off the bed yet, “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? You want me all for yourself – completely dependent on you – a pretty little boytoy to come back to whenever you get bored of your wife!”  
  
Andrea gets a hold of Riccardo’s arm just before he gets up, digging his fingers into his skin in desperate attempt to make him listen, “You know that’s not true. I want you to be happy – I want you safe.”  
  
“You’re hurting me,” Riccardo hisses coldly, pulling his arm free the moment Andrea loosens his hold, “I’ve been doing this for  _years_  and never needed anyone to protect me. I don’t need you, Andrea.”  
  
He is pulling his clothes on quickly, obviously desperate to get out of his own apartment, away from Andrea, and Andrea cannot bring himself to say anything to stop him before he is out of the door.  
  
“Well I  _do_  need you, Riccardo,” he whispers with a bitter laugh at the closed door, falling back to the mattress as it becomes obvious Riccardo is really not coming back anytime soon.  
  
Maybe it really is about the time he filed a divorce. No one should be surprised about it by this point anyways, not even the kids.  


“You might wanna make yourself comfortable,” Ricky tells him when they finally enter the hotel room, spacious and decorated with expensive furniture, “Maybe take a shower – we have time.”  
  
Andrea is fairly sure Ricky is just giving him a chance to recuperate from his previous orgasm, which nice of him, but at the same time he does not think he can  _be comfortable_  while having Ricky in the same room but not touching him.  
  
“Only if you join me,” he suggests with a crooked smile, nodding towards the bathroom. He is going to have to pay for the whole night in any case, so might as well get the best of it.  
  
Ricky opens his mouth, probably to tell him it will up the price again, but he shuts it without saying a word and walks up to Andrea instead, opening his suit jacket and pushing it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.  
  
“That’s expensive, you know,” Andrea says with a smirk, but does not protest as Ricky pulls off his tie and starts working on the buttons of his shirt, adding each article of clothing to the pile on the floor.  
  
“Don’t worry, we can get it dry-cleaned by the morning,” Ricky replies once Andrea is fully naked, stepping around him to pick up the clothes and putting them into the laundry bag hanging by the door, “I’ll just make a call to the reception.”  
  
Andrea is stuck in place, watching Ricky as he loiters around the room like he owned it, “You take lots of your customers here, then?”  
  
“That’s confidential,” Ricky reminds him with a laugh, and Andrea wonders not for the first time what kind of clients Ricky usually entertains. The other escort mentioned people having him on speed dial – for convenience or for more secrecy, Andrea would probably never find out.  
  
“You go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” Ricky is pulling off his own shirt as he speaks, pushing Andrea on the back gently to get him moving towards the bathroom.  
  
The bathroom is stylish, with embedded lights and light blue tiles on the walls and floor. The bathtub and the shower are separated from the rest of the area with semi-transparent glass tiles, creating an illusion of privacy.  
  
“They’ll even get you a scented bath if you want one,” Ricky’s voice from the door startles Andrea out of his thoughts and he turns to look at him, now fully naked as well, carelessly leaning on the doorframe.  
  
Ricky is beautiful. Andrea has no idea how anyone could feel satisfied with someone else after laying their eyes on him. He certainly does not know how he is supposed to look at his wife after this and think her even remotely attractive.  
  
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Andrea answers when he realizes Ricky is waiting for him to speak. He walks into the shower corner, turning the tab and setting the temperature before looking over his shoulder, “You coming? I thought I made my point clear.”  
  
He is answered with a soft chuckle, and then Ricky walks up to him and slips under the gentle spray of water, pressing up against his back, “Impatient, are we?”  
  
Andrea does not need to answer as Ricky pours some soap on his hand and starts rubbing it over Andrea’s body, his hands dancing over his back, shoulders and arms, before reaching his chest, teasing his nipples gently.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Ricky asks as he slides his hands lower, splaying them on his abdomen, caressing the tops of his thighs. His breath on Andrea’s ear is sending shivers down his spine, “It’s your call. You could fuck me again, maybe tie me up, have me at your mercy. Or I could fuck you, make you beg for it, if that’s what you’re into.”  
  
He is rubbing his cock against Andrea’s buttocks as he whispers the last suggestion into his ear, drawing a surprised gasp from Andrea’s lips. Andrea has never bottomed before, has never even considered it, but the mere idea of having Ricky inside him is much too intense to ignore.  
  
“Please?” he asks quietly, pushing back against Ricky’s cock, pleased to find him hard already. For now he does not even care that this is not real – in his mind it is, and that is enough.  
  
“Just a second,” Ricky tells him, and Andrea can hear the smile in his voice. The loss of contact is horrible, but Ricky returns before Andrea has a chance to complain, setting a small bag with lube and condoms on the shampoo ledge.  
  
Andrea tenses up when Ricky starts kissing his way down his spine, the situation catching up to him.  
  
“First time?” Ricky asks as he reaches Andrea’s ass, kissing and licking his lower back, fondling his buttocks with his hands, “I’ll be very gentle, I promise.”  
  
Andrea opens his mouth to reply. But what, that he is not a virgin? That Ricky does not need to worry about him? Before he can figure out a retort that is not a complete lie, he can feel Ricky parting his buttocks and blowing gently at his entrance, and just like that the protest fly out of his mind, and Andrea’s full concentration is focused on just keeping himself from falling down.  
  
Ricky starts with his fingers, rubbing his entrance and the skin around it under the running water – making sure he is clean – dibbing just the tip of his finger inside once he is certain Andrea has relaxed enough to take it.  
  
“You want me to lick you?” he asks huskily, his lips pressed against Andrea’s skin even as he speaks, and he laughs softly when he receives an immediate “God yes” in response.  
  
The feeling on Ricky’s tongue on his hole is completely different from his fingers – softer, warmer, more erotic – and Andrea finds himself pushing back against his mouth, moaning barely audibly, leaning on the glass wall to keep himself standing upright.  
  
Ricky kisses his entrance, sucking on it softly, before he pushes the tip of his tongue inside, the sensation making Andrea’s cock twitch, making him grow hard again. The blowjob in the car suddenly seems so distant, like Andrea was eighteen and at his most virile again.  
  
Andrea notices Ricky reaching for the lube only because one of his hands leaves its place on his ass, and for a second his mind is balancing between pleasure and nervousness again. Pleasure wins when Ricky pushes his tongue inside him again, a bit deeper this time, before pulling away and blowing another puff of air at the sensitive flesh.  
  
“Relax,” he instructs as he presses a slicked finger against Andrea’s hole, rubbing around it to make him used to the sensation, “It’s gonna feel uncomfortable at first, but I’ll stop whenever you tell me to. I promise, Andrea, it’ll be good.”  
  
Uncomfortable is not the word Andrea would use when Ricky pushes his finger through the ring of muscle: it  _hurts_ , a firm digit making the entrance far more forceful than Ricky’s tongue earlier. Andrea is gasping for air, but he forces himself to stay still as Ricky waits for him to relax.  
  
“Okay?” he asks when Andrea finally lets out a sigh of relief as he grows used to the intrusion, his clenching muscles loosening around the finger.  
  
“Yeah, ’m fine,” Andrea grunts, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate on the good sensations as Ricky starts moving his finger carefully. Mostly it just feels weird now, an unfamiliar pressure inside him.  
  
“Can you lean forward a little?” Ricky asks softly, pressing a kiss on Andrea’s hip before urging him to rest more of his weight against the bathroom wall, pushing his ass back against Ricky’s hand.  
  
He does not expect the powerful wave of pleasure running through him when Ricky turns his hand a little and crooks his finger inside him, hitting a particular spot he seems to have been searching for all along.  
  
“Told you it’d be good,” Ricky laughs breathily when Andrea bucks back against his hand, unable to stop himself from moaning aloud, “That’s the best part about switching positions – you actually know what to look for.”  
  
Andrea certainly wishes one of his previous partners had bothered to teach him this, because it is completely different knowing the prostate is supposed to be somewhere in there and knowing  _what it actually feels like_.  
  
His thought process does not get much further, because Ricky is probing the same spot again, making Andrea see stars behind his closed eyelids.  
  
“Think you’re ready for the second one?”  
  
Andrea gives a nod, too far gone to form words anymore. He feels Ricky standing up behind him and retracting his hand, only to return with two fingers and more lubricant, slowly working his way inside him again.  
  
“You’re doing fine, Andrea,” Ricky coos into his ear, kissing the back of his neck as he waits for Andrea to relax again – it does not take as long this time, the arousal cutting off the worst tension – “It’s gonna be fine, I promise.”  
  
He reaches his hand around Andrea to stroke his cock as he starts moving his fingers in and out of him, probably to pull his attention away from the stretching. It works surprisingly well, and Andrea barely feels the momentary sting when Ricky adds a third finger.  
  
Andrea feels impossibly full with three fingers inside him, though, and he cannot even imagine how it is physically possible to take more than that. He wants to ask Ricky how he does it, how he made bottoming seem so easy after just a moment of preparation.  
  
He lets out a breath he did not notice he was holding when Ricky finally pulls his fingers out, the sudden feeling of emptiness almost maddening.  
  
“You don’t mind doing it here?” Ricky asks as he takes a condom and rolls it over his erection, coating it with more lube, “We could move to the bed, but I’d probably have to prepare you some more.”  
  
“Here’s fine,” Andrea replies quickly, looking over his shoulder, admiring how good Ricky looks even now, his hair wet and makeup smudged. It is probably supposed to be waterproof, but obviously it is not meant for long showers, “I want you to fuck me. Now.”  
  
Ricky smiles, and Andrea’s dizzy head does not detect a hint of fakeness in it. He needs this to be real, because this is perhaps the most intimate thing he has ever experienced with anyone.  
  
Andrea is not prepared for how  _different_  having a cock inside him feels compared to the fingers. It is smoother, slipping through the entrance without too much discomfort, but the obvious difference in length feels like it could rip him in two.  
  
“Wait,” Andrea gasps as his muscles protest the intrusion, clenching around Ricky, the waves of burning pain the only thing he can think of for a moment, “Just, wait. Please?”  
  
He knows Ricky cannot be more than halfway in, but the feeling is nothing compared to the fingers – too intense, too sudden.  
  
“Should I stop?” Ricky asks, and Andrea can recognize worry in his voice. He is still caressing Andrea’s cock, rubbing the sensitive tip, “We can stop if it’s too much for you.”  
  
“No!” Andrea protests immediately. He tries to collect himself, forcing himself to breathe, to focus on Ricky’s hand on his cock, and slowly the small sparks of pleasure overpower the pain and discomfort.  
  
“Okay, I’m ready,” he finally says, leaning his forehead on the cold glass tiles, arching his back and readying himself for more pain.  
  
Instead of pushing further in, Ricky rocks his hips back, pumping into Andrea in slow, deliberate movements, careful not to go deeper than what he is comfortable with. The friction is intense, but not exactly painful – after a few thrusts it actually begins to feel good.  
  
Ricky leans forward to press up against Andrea’s back, mouthing his shoulders and neck, his jerks on Andrea’s cock matching the slow rhythm of his hips. Andrea can feel him going deeper with each push, but now it is a welcome intrusion, the pleasure pushing away the nerves, his muscles loosening to allow the entrance.  
  
And then Ricky hits his prostate again, and Andrea’s legs would have given out were it not for Ricky’s free arm that has wound itself around his waist, keeping him up as Andrea unravels under his maddening touches.  
  
Andrea wants to tell he is about to come, but it is as if Ricky can read his mind: he adjusts his hold on Andrea’s erection, picking up the pace of his jerks, stroking the whole length firmly, paying extra attention to the tip. Another thrust right against his prostate and Andrea comes with a strangled moan, his seed seeping over Ricky’s fingers.  
  
Andrea’s legs finally give out when Ricky pulls out of him, and he slides to the floor, spent and exhausted, his mind delightfully blank.  
  
“You didn’t come yet,” he drawls when Ricky turns to walk away from the shower, carelessly tossing the condom to the bin.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Ricky assures him, looking into the mirror, trying to wipe away the messy eyeliner, “I’ll just take care of it myself after—”  
  
“That won’t do,” Andrea interrupts, “I told you, didn’t I? That I don’t like being the only one enjoying it.”  
  
Ricky chuckles as he touches his eye carefully – Andrea realizes for the first time he is actually wearing contacts – “Fine, I’ll let you do it once I’ve made sure I won’t wake up with blood red eyes.”  
  
“That’s more like it,” Andrea answers lazily, not even attempting to get up from the wet floor just yet, “There might still be some hope for you, after all.”  
  
  
  
Andrea cannot remember ever driving as fast as he does when he receives the call from the emergency room. Why Riccardo would give them his number after their latest argument, he has no idea, but this is not the time to worry about trivial things like that.  
  
“Riccardo, what happened?” he rushes to ask the moment he sees Riccardo sitting in the corner of the waiting room, a thin hospital blanket wrapped around his shoulders, visibly shivering, his eyes red and puffy, an angry bruise forming on his left cheek.  
  
“Andrea,” Riccardo acknowledges him only when Andrea crouches in front of him, resting his hands on Riccardo’s knees when he cannot locate his hands under the blanket, “I was— careless.”  
  
He unwraps the blanket just enough to reveal his ripped shirt, half of the buttons missing, the dark bruising on his skin visible even with all the bandages, “He’s never been violent before. I couldn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”  
  
Anger is boiling inside Andrea. How could anyone hurt Riccardo?  _His_  Riccardo.  
  
“Who was it?” he asks darkly, clutching Riccardo’s knees too tightly for it to be comfortable, “Who the  _fuck_  dared—”  
  
“Stop it!” Riccardo interrupts him, his lower lip trembling and eyes brimming with unshed tears, “Stop it, Andrea. You know I can’t reveal my clients’ names. Even if I did, no one would believe me. I can’t— I— Please, just let it go.”  
  
The tears have started falling as Riccardo struggles to finish his sentences, his voice hitching before the actual sobs take over. Andrea has to stop himself from lashing out about how twisted Riccardo’s logic is, because what Riccardo needs right now is not his anger but comfort.  
  
“It’s gonna be fine,” he assures Riccardo quietly as he pulls him into a tight hug, cradling him in his arms, not letting go even as the violent sobs finally begin to subside.  
  
He pointedly ignores the curious looks they are receiving from the people around them. Let them look, to hell with appearances and secrecy.  
  
“It’ll be fine, I promise you, Riccardo,” he whispers again, kissing Riccardo’s hair, repeating the words over and over, hoping they will magically turn true if he says them often enough.  
  
  
  
“Ricky’s not coming tonight,” an escort with fluffy brown hair tells Andrea when he finds him sitting at the bar, sipping his whisky and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, “Probably got a call from one of his regulars. They usually take the whole night.”  
  
The boy looks vaguely familiar, although Andrea cannot place him. He is probably at the club a lot, maybe has even sat at Andrea and Antonio’s table at some point. Or perhaps Andrea has seen him around Ricky, since they seem to know each other.  
  
“What makes you think I’m here for him?” Andrea asks with mild curiosity, turning the glass in his hands before chugging down the rest of the brown liqueur and ordering another, “Can’t a man just enjoy a drink after a long day at work.”  
  
“There’re plenty of places with that brand of whisky. No need to come here for that,” the boy smiles, taking Andrea’s answer as an invitation and settling on the barstool next to his, “And you always come here for him, everybody knows that.”  
  
Andrea cannot argue with that, although  _everybody_  might be pushing it a little. He does not come to the club that often: he is far too busy for that, having just taken over as the CEO in his father’s place.  
  
Furthermore, he prefers to pick Ricky up straight from his apartment where the risk of getting caught is smaller. Obviously, he has never actually seen where Ricky lives, only the neighbourhood where he picks him up and drops him off occasionally.  
  
Tonight is an exception, because Antonio had insisted after a long business dinner that Andrea should come with him – which is his most common reason for coming to the club in the first place – only to abandon him at the bar after the first twenty minutes.  
  
“Well not tonight, apparently,” he replies after a brief consideration, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He did not have a chance to contact Ricky before agreeing with Antonio’s invitation, but saying he had not hoped to meet Ricky here would be a lie.  
  
“He’s never gonna return your feelings, you know,” the escort continues, laying a hand on Andrea’s arm gently, obviously trying to appear comforting but not quite succeeding, “He’s only taking an advantage of you – he knows you’ll keep coming back, bringing him more money, as long as he keeps your hopes up.”  
  
“He never gave me any hopes,” Andrea counters quickly, shaking the hand off his arm, “And it’s not like that. It’s just… Convenient, I guess.”  
  
“I could be convenient for you,” the boy notes with a shrug, brown eyes meeting Andrea’s challengingly, “If you weren’t so stuck on him, I mean.”  
  
Andrea gives the escort a once-over, doing his best to appear interested in the offer. He is younger than Ricky – at least by the looks – shorter too. His hair is kind of similar, though, and his straight-forwardness reminds Andrea of the first time he met Ricky.  
  
Andrea might actually find him attractive were it not for Ricky, but that is something he prefers to keep to himself.  
  
“What’s your name, kid?” he finally asks, sipping his whisky absent-mindedly, trying to push away the thoughts of his unrequited fancy.  
  
“It’s Andrea, the same as you. Though you can call me Andi if it’s easier for you,” the boy, Andi, drawls as he slides his fingers down Andrea’s arm again, his touch cool on Andrea’s skin when he reaches his hand, “And I’m not a  _kid_ , far from it.”  
  
“Well Andi, I’m sorry to let you down but I’m not in the mood tonight,” Andrea tells him sternly as he tries to draw away from the touch, “Maybe some other time.”  
  
“What a pity,” Andi pouts, a cute little purse of lips almost identical to Ricky’s when he is trying to get what he wants – Andrea usually gives in to him immediately – “I certainly hope Ricky won’t get into any trouble for leading you on. You know we’ve got rules about these things, right?”  
  
Ricky never mentioned those rules, but it makes sense when Andrea thinks about it: getting feelings involved would probably put the escort as well as the club at risk of getting sued or even worse.  
  
What worries him more, though, is Andi’s tone when he talks about Ricky – behind the light façade, there is an almost jealous undertone, and it makes his words sound like a threat instead of genuine concern.  
  
“On the other hand, why not?” Andrea quips quickly, “What do you have to offer, Andi?”  
  
They end up in the same room Ricky took him during their first night here – or maybe it is a different one that just looks exactly the same, Andrea is not quite sure – even the music playing in the stereos is the same.  
  
Andi is much more submissive compared to Ricky, his moans more high-pitched and his cock just a bit smaller. His skin is softer, too, and the muscles less refined.  
  
Andrea notices all these differences immediately as he pushes the escort face down to the mattress, but still he can almost imagine he is fucking Ricky as he pushes into the lithe body, grasping the fluffy curls with one hand while keeping a hold of his hip with another.  
  
It is not the same, though, not even close, and it takes much longer for Andrea to come even as he tries to speed up the process. When the waves of release finally flush over him, it is on the thoughts of Ricky, his beautiful Ricky, more than on the escort underneath him.  
  
“No wonder he likes keeping you around, beats fucking the old pervs by a mile,” Andi purrs as he walks Andrea back to the bar, his arm hooked around Andrea’s casually, “Be sure to call on me if you ever get bored of him.”  
  
“I’ll keep that in—”  
  
Andrea’s reply is interrupted by the sound of breaking glass just a few feet away them, and he meets Ricky’s eyes as soon as he turns to look what the commotion is about.  
  
Ricky is sitting in someone’s lap at a corner table, but he is not paying any attention to the fuss around them as the waiters hurry to clean up the mess from the floor, his eyes glued on Andrea and his companion.  
  
There is shock and  _hurt_  in his eyes, and in that one clarifying moment Andrea realizes he is not the only one too deeply involved in their arrangement.  
  
It only last for a few seconds, and then Ricky’s attention is back on his client as he jumps up, apologizing profoundly for his clumsiness, wiping away the alcohol stains on the man’s trousers, pointedly turning his back to Andrea.  
  
  
  
“I’m home, Riccardo,” Andrea calls into the apartment as he closes the door and kicks off his shoes. He is met by silence, but it does not surprise him anymore, not after a few weeks of living together.  
  
“Have you eaten anything?” he asks as he walks into the living room, finding Riccardo sitting on the couch surfing through the TV channels. At least he has gotten up from the bed today, which is an improvement in itself, “Should I cook something or would you prefer takeaway?”  
  
“They called from the hospital,” Riccardo says without lifting his gaze from the TV screen, not giving any indication that he heard what Andrea asked him, “I’m clean for now. Still need to test for syphilis and HIV though.”  
  
“That’s great,” Andrea presses a kiss into Riccardo’s hair, taking in his scent – he has taken a shower as well, must be one of the good days, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  
  
“You don’t know that,” Riccardo’s reply is sharp, and finally he looks Andrea in the eyes, and Andrea can see the fear hidden behind the blank stare, “You don’t know who he’s been with. How many people he’s violated like this.”  
  
“Neither do you,” Andrea argues softly, pulling off his suit jacket and loosening his tie as he sits down next to Riccardo, “So let’s just wait for the test results. There’s no point in worrying before we know for sure.”  
  
“Not knowing is a good enough reason for me,” Riccardo mumbles stubbornly, and Andrea is actually happy to see this side of him after the weeks of listless stares and days spent without eating or getting out of the bed. It is a proof that his Riccardo is still in there, fighting to get back to his feet.  
  
Andrea wraps his arm around Riccardo’s waist carefully, feeling his ribs that did not use to stick out quite so much. He has no time to dwell on it, though, because Riccardo is shifting closer, resting his head on Andrea’s shoulder, sighing softly.  
  
“We’re meeting my wife and her lawyer for the divorce settlement tomorrow,” Andrea reveals after the silence has stretched too long for his liking. He lifts his hand from Riccardo’s waist to caress his hair gently, threading through the tangled curls, “We’ve got a prenup, so there shouldn’t be any problem. But it might still take a while.”  
  
“That’s good,” Riccardo whispers softly, turning his head enough to press a kiss on Andrea’s shoulder, “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To get away from your unhappy marriage.”  
  
“It’s not all for you, you know,” Andrea reminds him with a soft chuckle, lifting his other hand into Riccardo’s hair as well to work on the persistent knots, trying not to pull on his scalp too much.  
  
“Of course it’s not,” Riccardo hums as he lets Andrea tug on his unruly hair, his eyes closed and face pressed against Andrea’s shirt.  
  
It will be fine. Riccardo will be fine. They will be fine. They have to be.  
  
  
  
“I’m not talking to you,” Ricky snaps at Andrea before he has a chance to say anything, “And if you don’t stop harassing me I’m gonna report you to the police.”  
  
“What else am I supposed to do? You got me banned from the club and you’re not answering my messages,” Andrea gets out of his car and follows the escort as he tries to keep walking, “We need to talk, Ricky, you know that as well as I do.”  
  
“Oh really? And here I thought I was sending a clear message that  _I didn’t wanna talk to you_ ,” Ricky stops on his tracks and turns to face Andrea so quickly he is almost taken aback, “Stop following me, I’m not showing you where I live.”  
  
“You don’t need to,” Andrea answers him with a softer voice, hoping a different approach might get them somewhere, “We can talk here. Or in the car, if you’d prefer more privacy.”  
  
Not to say Ricky’s neighbourhood in the early morning hours is not private enough, but you never know – there might be some insomniac granny or a nightlife worker still up.  
  
“What’s there to talk about? There’s no  _’we’_  here. It was all just business,” Ricky hisses at him, his light blue eyes flashing with anger, “And business means  _trust_. There’s a reason I prefer to have regulars instead of casual clients, you know.”  
  
“You never told me that!” Andrea cannot keep the exasperation from his voice any longer, not after a week of trying to get a hold of Ricky, a whole week of mulling over that painful look in Ricky’s eyes when he saw him with Andi, “How am I supposed to know how this works if you don’t say anything?”  
  
“I thought you—” Ricky starts with a thin voice, but then he shakes his head and his voice is back to normal, “Shouldn’t that be obvious? You’re my client, everybody knows that. That you’d go for someone else in the same fucking club is an insult to me and my services.”  
  
“You weren’t there,” Andrea replies softly, holding Ricky’s gaze resolutely, “And if it’s just business, it shouldn’t mean a thing. Not to me or to you. But it  _did_ , and you’re just proving it by making such a big deal out of it.”  
  
Ricky does not respond, and Andrea thinks there might be a shimmer of something in his eyes – uncertainty, fear, hope?  
  
“When I was with him, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Andrea continues, taking a step closer, reaching out to run his hand carefully down Ricky’s arm, “I’ve been completely mesmerized by you since that first night. And I thought it was just me, that there was nothing in it. But there  _is_ , isn’t there?”  
  
Ricky opens his mouth, but closes it again quickly, looking at Andrea almost helplessly. Finally he takes a breath and whispers, “Maybe you should come inside after all.”  
  
Ricky’s apartment turns out to be a small one-room flat in the building right by the place Andrea was waiting for him. It does not look much lived-in: a few shirts on the armchair and the unmade bed the only things out of place. Ricky probably only comes here to sleep between work and whatever else it is that he spends his time on.  
  
“Make yourself comfortable,” Ricky mutters as he hangs his coat by the door and kicks his shoes into a corner before sitting down on the edge of the bed.  
  
Andrea looks around, eyeing the worn out armchair and the single stool by the small table in the kitchenette, before making his decision and sitting down on the bed beside Ricky.  
  
“It wasn’t meant to happen,” Ricky’s whisper is almost inaudible, and for a second Andrea thinks he imagined the whole thing before the escort continues, “I’m a whore, I fuck for living, there’s no room for feelings in that. It just can’t happen. This can’t happen.”  
  
“But it is happening,” Andrea reminds him simply, brushing hair away from Ricky’s eyes before realizing what he is doing, “It’s scary, I know. It’s scary for me too.”  
  
“But I can’t,” Ricky is protesting weakly, but Andrea can practically see him giving in, the layers of his professional façade falling one by one, “I can’t stop working, it’s all I know.”  
  
“I’m not asking you to,” Andrea assures him, caressing his cheek carefully, “I’m not divorcing my wife either.”  
  
Ricky lets out a surprised sound when Andrea leans in to brush their lips together, just a brief contact: their first kiss.  
  
Ricky follows Andrea when he tries to pull away, claiming his lips in a clumsy kiss, their noses bumping together and Ricky’s teeth scraping against Andrea’s lower lip. But the lack of experience does not matter, because it is still the best kiss Andrea has ever received.  
  
“Sorry, been years since I last did that,” Ricky admits when he pulls back, his hands on Andrea’s shoulders, caressing the back of his neck hesitantly, as if still unsure whether he is allowed to do this.  
  
“No need to apologize,” Andrea smiles at him, wrapping his arms around Ricky’s waist, “At least there’s one thing I get to keep for myself, right?”  
  
Ricky smiles shyly, but then at the next moment he has climbed into Andrea’s lap, his arms thrown around his neck and lips demanding on his, all the shyness gone in a blink.  
  
It does not take long for Ricky to pick up the tricks of kissing – Andrea is not surprised, more than familiar with his skilful mouth in other places – he is teasing Andrea, licking the insides of his mouth and then pulling away, merely nibbling his lower lip, breaking the kiss momentarily right when Andrea tries to take the lead, and then diving in again when Andrea thinks it is over.  
  
Andrea is painfully hard from just the kissing, and he does not think he can last that long tonight, not when he finally has a chance to have Ricky all to himself.  
  
To Andrea’s surprise, Ricky lets out a suppressed whine against his lips, and it is only when they break the kiss that he realizes that Ricky’s whole body is shivering against his.  
  
Andrea tentatively runs his hands down Ricky’s sides, laying them on his hips. He is rewarded with a sharp gasp and Ricky bucks his obvious erection against Andrea, their cocks brushing against each other through their trousers. This is completely new to Andrea, who is used to seeing Ricky as the controlled one, not losing his cool even in the middle of sex.  
  
“It’s my first time,” Ricky tells him, leaning their foreheads together, his breath hitching as he speaks, “The first time doing this just because I  _want to_.”  
  
“Not even before—?” Andrea does not finish the question, but the meaning is clear enough anyways.  
  
“No, never,” Ricky breathes out, brushing his lips against Andrea’s again, rolling his hips to get more friction on his erection, “Sold my virginity to the highest bidder, back in the day.”  
  
Andrea knows he should be shocked after such a revelation, but it is difficult to concentrate on moralizing when he has Ricky squirming in his lap, kissing him senseless, trying to get through his clothes without actually moving away from him long enough to let him undress.  
  
The shirts come off easily enough, although Ricky whines indignantly when he has to stop kissing Andrea long enough to pull his top over his head.  
  
The trousers are more difficult, and in the end Andrea has to push Ricky off his lap so he can open the fly of his jeans and push the offending garments off, releasing Ricky’s cock from its confides. He stands up as well, then, pushing his trousers down before pulling Ricky flush against his body and catching his lips into another kiss, not letting him get away with his teasing this time.  
  
“Such impatience,” Andrea laughs when Ricky rubs his erection against his hip, mouthing Andrea’s neck in attempt to hide the embarrassing sounds escaping his lips.  
  
“Shut up,” Ricky huffs and pushes Andrea back onto the bed, climbing on top of him, their cocks aligned, “I want you inside me. Make me yours.”  
  
Ricky reaches behind Andrea, grabbing a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He pours a generous amount on Andrea’s hand and takes a hold of his wrist, leading it to his butt, lifting his hips just enough to give him room to manoeuvre.  
  
Who is Andrea to argue when he is asked so nicely: he strokes his fingers between Ricky’s buttocks, looking for his entrance, pushing in two fingers at once when he finds it.  
  
Ricky whimpers at the first intrusion, clinging to Andrea’s neck and pushing back against the fingers, the earlier shivers intensifying every time Andrea moves his fingers inside him.  
  
“Please,” Ricky is gasping into Andrea’s ear, “Please, Andrea. Please just take me.”  
  
It is incredible how different Ricky is like this, with no pretences or professionalism, just pure lust and need. So different, and yet he is still the same Ricky Andrea fell for when he first saw him.  
  
Andrea twists around to take a condom from the nightstand, rolling it over his erection quickly, afraid his self-control might not hold much longer, not with Ricky coming undone under his every touch.  
  
Ricky takes the lead as Andrea pulls his fingers out: he lifts himself over Andrea’s cock, his legs shaking a little as he takes a hold of Andrea and positions himself over the tip, sinking down on him in one swift move.  
  
The clenching heat closing around him is almost enough to send Andrea over the edge right away, and he has to grasp Ricky’s hips to keep him from moving, because the friction would be too much for him.  
  
Ricky has thrown his legs around Andrea, now sitting fully in his lap, allowing only small movements when Andrea finally feels comfortable enough to start thrusting upwards into him.  
  
“Don’t stop,” Ricky whispers, his voice trembling. He leans in to kiss Andrea again, sucking on his lips almost painfully, lapping the insides of his mouth, then just nibbling his lips gently, repeating the whispered command over and over again as Andrea drives himself into his body, “Don’t stop, Andrea. Please don’t stop.”  
  
Ricky is the first to come, his moan swallowed into their kiss, his cum hitting Andrea’s abdomen without either of them touching his cock as he unravels in Andrea’s embrace, the clenching of his body pulling Andrea over the edge as well.  
  
“You’re incredible, Ricky, you know that right?” Andrea tells him once they are settled comfortably under the covers, Ricky lying half on top of him, his lips brushing against Andrea’s collarbone.  
  
“It’s Riccardo,” comes the sleepy reply, and it is like the last connection Andrea was missing.  
  
Andrea presses one more kiss into his hair, nuzzling the soft curls gently, “Nice to meet you, Riccardo. I’m Andrea. Just Andrea.”


End file.
